Keep Me Warm
by Luna Darkside
Summary: Shinichi returns to his old childhood home after a string of tenants claim it's haunted. Kaito is the ghost responsible. /Shinichi x ghost!Kaito/
1. living in a ghost town

_Everyone's probably thinking something like "oh no she's trying to write another chaptered fic when are you going to update_ Runs in the Family _Luna you idiot you never even finished that one," but... no, have the first chapter of a ridiculous sappy Shinichi x ghost!Kaito fic because I am weak for ghost!aus._

 _Warnings include shounen-ai (though it's mainly preslash at this point), possible grammar mistakes / errors that I missed while skimming through this, smitten!Shinichi because we all need smitten!Shinichi in our lives, prankster-ghost!Kaito because reasons, etc. Titles (of the fic itself and the chapters) come from "Ghosts" by Saint Raymond because I couldn't think of any ghost-related titles and had to resort to ghost-related songs for inspiration._

 _Enjoy! - Luna_

 **chapter one** | _living in a ghost town_

Shoveling a fistful of rain-dampened hair out of his face, Shinichi exhaled, dropped his overstuffed suitcase beside him unceremoniously, and shivered in his pea coat. It was bitterly cold, especially for October, which only seemed to heighten the sense of foreboding Shinichi had been experiencing since he'd stepped onto the train earlier that morning. Fitting, he supposed, considering the circumstances.

Steeling himself, Shinichi lifted his gaze to study the looming, intimidating expanse of his childhood home, which, upon further inspection, looked more like the haunted mansion it was being touted as than the place he'd spent most of his early life. The ornate front gate was beginning to rust, the old oak tree in the front yard looked diseased, and, as the wind howled, the neat lines of windowpanes creaked ominously in their rotting frames. Combined with the drizzly, gray-skied weather, the place looked absolutely terrifying.

That might have explained why the last eighteen tenants had hurriedly moved out, citing "paranormal occurrences," "ghosts or vampires or some supernatural shit," and, most memorably, "the house is just goddamn creepy I'm leaving and I expect a refund I stayed there for _three days_ you asshole" as reasons.

After the last tenant had moved out only three hours after moving in, shrieking at Shinichi over the phone until Shinichi had gotten a migraine and hung up on him, Shinichi decided something needed to be done. It was getting ridiculous. The obvious solution had been to tell the Osakan police force and Hattori that he was going to check up on his old house, pack everything into a single suitcase, and take the train back to Beika to investigate the matter himself.

But now… well, he wasn't sure what to think. He could certainly _see_ why someone might think the place haunted, even if ghosts obviously didn't exist.

Shinichi sighed and trudged forward, pushing at the gate until it screeched open with a peal of rusted metal. Mentally wondering if there was any way he could oil it, Shinichi strode up the front walk, suitcase bumping along behind him, until he reached the front door.

He got the door unlocked fairly quickly, though it stuck in the doorjamb for a minute. Inside the house was dark and uninviting, smelling of mildew and dust. Shinichi wrinkled his nose as he fumbled for the light switch. The lights flickered for a long moment before turning on –

– only to reveal a _pool of blood right in front of him._

Well, at least that was what Shinichi probably would've thought the liter of tomato juice poured over the entry area was if he wasn't a homicide detective who dealt with real blood on a regular basis.

Blank-faced and perplexed, Shinichi blinked down at the miniature lake of red. He didn't _think_ the last tenant would have poured tomato juice all over the floor (even on the _rug_ ; that was going to be absolute hell to clean), even if he'd been angry at Shinichi for hanging up on him.

Skirting around the puddle as he tried to avoid getting his suitcase dirty, Shinichi headed towards the kitchen. It seemed clean enough, although the stove was covered in a thin film of dust and a few of the cupboard doors seemed to hang crooked. Deeming it relatively safe, Shinichi left his suitcase in one corner and stumbled back out into the hallway. Every step he took squeaked, making Shinichi frown. He didn't remember the floorboards being _that_ creaky.

Humming tunelessly under his breath, Shinichi came to the end of the hall, where a familiar set of doors waited. He smiled, nostalgic. The library had always been his safe haven as a child; he'd practically grown up in those two antique armchairs, hands curled around mysteries and crime novels…

Still smiling to himself, Shinichi reached for the doorknob, pulling the door open –

– just in time for _a grinning skeleton to come flying out of nowhere, lunging at him with inhuman speed_.

Or, more accurately, just in time for Shinichi's father's old anatomical skeleton model to swing forward due to a complicated system of strings connected to the door handle and bang into Shinichi's face rather painfully.

" _Ow_." Shinichi shoved the skeleton out of the way, rubbing at where the bones had smacked hard against his cheekbones. Scowling, Shinichi batted at the plastic skeleton and shoved past it with burgeoning irritation. Why would someone rig the model like that? Surely that last tenant hadn't been _that_ upset…?

As Shinichi stood in the doorway, he realized that the skeleton had been rigged in a way that should have forced whoever had rigged it to stay inside the room. The thought made Shinichi take pause as he scanned the library. While it was dim and unlit inside, the curtains drawn tight over the windows, he couldn't make out any human shapes.

Against his will, Shinichi was mildly impressed. Whoever had managed that trick without being in the room deserved _some_ kind of praise. He set the thought aside for future perusal, electing to examine the library.

Everything appeared to be pristine, Shinichi discovered. He took a minute to walk the perimeter of the room, running his fingertips over the smooth, time-worn spines of the books. His fingers came away dusty, but that would be easy enough to remedy. Shinichi promised himself he would do some cleaning as soon as possible.

Pushing the skeleton out of the way as he exited the library, Shinichi returned to the kitchen, greeted by a floor and countertop as bare and empty as before he'd left. He was in the process of mindlessly swiping grime off the cold stovetop when he froze. Wait a second. Hadn't he left his suitcase in here?

Whirling around, Shinichi glanced frantically around the kitchen for his suitcase, but was only met with linoleum tiling and silence. A frown creased his brow. He'd been denying it, but there was definitely something going on here. But even so, it couldn't _actually_ be ghosts, though. Right?

Overhead, there was a thud, like something heavy falling, and then an unhelpful whistling noise before an uncomfortable hush descended. Shinichi winced and raked a hair through his hair. Right. Definitely no such thing as ghosts.

* * *

By the time Shinichi was safely ensconced underneath a set of ancient sheets in his old bedroom, back pressed up against the wall, he had experienced the following events in addition to the tomato juice and skeleton scares:

1\. The shower water turning bright red while Shinichi was shampooing his hair (he'd identified the color as a harmless food dye, but it had left a sticky, uncomfortable residue on his skin and hair)

2\. The lights randomly going out at inopportune times, such as while Shinichi was shaving (he'd nicked himself, but that had been the extent of the damage)

3\. The sound of high-pitched screaming coming from neighboring rooms (when Shinichi had gone to check, the rooms had been innocently empty)

4\. The bathroom mirror inexplicably breaking while Shinichi was brushing his teeth, showering him with sharp bits of glass (somehow, Shinichi had managed to escape any disfiguring cuts, but cleaning up the glass had been tedious)

5\. The lock on the bathroom door suddenly getting jammed, trapping Shinichi inside the bathroom until he'd managed to pick the lock with a bobby pin he'd found under the bathroom mat

6\. The cleaning supplies being replaced by a strange concoction of pineapple juice and vodka, which Shinichi had discovered after he'd poured what he had thought was a gentle bleach solution all over the tomato juice-stained rug in the entry

As a result, when Shinichi finally fell into bed, wearing too-small pajama bottoms that he'd salvaged from his old wardrobe and no shirt because apparently his shoulders had gotten too broad to fit into any of his sixteen-year-old self's shirts, he was tired and in absolutely no mood for these pathetic attempts at scare tactics. Even if science somehow ceased to exist and there was a legitimate ghost haunting his house. He just _didn't care_ anymore.

So at 2:03 a.m., when Shinichi woke to find his bed levitating several meters off the floor, his window thrown open so icy night wind and droplets of rain bombarded his face, he just buried his face in his pillow and groaned, long and heartfelt and annoyed.

"Okay, seriously?" he demanded once he'd stopped trying to smother himself and had gotten properly irritated. He hadn't _asked_ to be haunted by some – okay, Shinichi would admit that "ghost" was becoming more and more probable, as illogical and impossible as it seemed. Considering his bed was hovering _above the ground_ and all. "Can you leave me alone for _one night_? I came all the way out here from Osaka, leaving everything behind just to check up on my old childhood home, which by the way, everyone is claiming is haunted _thanks to you_ , and I've had to deal with your stupid pranks all day and I _just want to sleep_. Is that not okay? Can you give me that much, or are you going to be an asshole about it?"

There was an awkward silence (one that Shinichi liked to think sounded embarrassed) before the bed slowly lowered back to the ground and the windows swung shut.

" _Thank_ you," Shinichi growled before he pulled the duvet over his head and went back to sleep. He was going to have to deal with the ghost sooner or later, but for now he couldn't care less.

* * *

The feeling of sunlight beating down on him, scalding unapologetically through his eyelids in a blurry red haze, was enough to make Shinichi flinch, navigating a hand blindly out from underneath the comforter to shield his eyes. It was far too early for this. And why were the curtains even open?

After a few minutes, though, he sighed and dropped his hand, accepting the inevitable. There was nothing he could do now that he was awake. He might as well get up and start dealing with the whole ghost business, which he was _not_ looking forward to. How was he even going to find the ghost, he wondered? If it even existed, that was.

Sighing under his breath, Shinichi rubbed at his temples, yawned widely, and opened his eyes to find himself staring into a pair of bright blue eyes.

Under any other circumstances, Shinichi would not have minded waking up to that particular set of eyes, especially when they were accompanied by razorblade cheekbones and pretty, well-defined lips and a mop of unruly brown hair. He might have even been flattered that someone that good-looking wanted to watch him while he slept.

All of that would have been probable (or at least _more_ probable) had it not been for the fact that the face – not to mention the (remarkably fit) body attached to it – was _almost entirely transparent_.

Shinichi stared for a long, long moment, his brain desperately trying and failing to come up with some kind of plausible explanation (some kind of body paint? An invisibility cloak of some kind? Hallucinations? Death?), before he jerked backwards and smacked his head against the wall hard enough that the bed shook and the windows rattled.

Ignoring the pain that blossomed angrily at the back of his head, Shinichi gaped at the man with what was doubtless a very unattractive expression, but he couldn't exactly find it in himself to care. "Oh my God," he choked out, eventually.

The – the ghost actually looked abashed, lifting one translucent hand to scrub at the back of his head. "Um, hi," he mumbled, and _oh God there was a ghost talking to Shinichi, what was he supposed to do_. It was a _legitimate ghost_. Ghosts _existed._ Shinichi was having a bit of a crisis.

After a long, long moment of Shinichi questioning his _entire existence_ , he managed to calm down enough to breathe properly. "You." Shinichi swallowed dryly. His heart was attempting to break his ribcage with how hard it was pounding. "You. Are a ghost. I think?" His voice went mortifyingly high on the last question.

"Quite right," the ghost agreed earnestly as he dropped his hand back to his side. "I'm the ghost who's been haunting your house."

Shinichi felt a headache coming on, possibly as a result of bashing his head against the wall (but more likely because he was sitting shirtless in bed talking to a devastatingly attractive ghost. His life was suffering).

* * *

Unsure of the proper etiquette when discussing the haunting of your childhood home with the ghost who had been doing the haunting, Shinichi had invited the ghost down into the kitchen for tea. It had been slightly awkward when Shinichi realized that the ghost couldn't exactly drink tea, but the ghost had been cordial enough to wait politely at the dining room table while Shinichi scuttled about and made tea for himself and mentally panicked.

"So," Shinichi said as he sat down across from the ghost, placing his mug by his elbow. "I, uh… I don't suppose you'd tell me about why you've been haunting my house?"

The ghost, bless his soul, actually looked contrite. Shinichi hadn't been aware that ghosts could be that expressive. (Well, he hadn't been aware of ghosts, period. But still.) "There's no real reason, to be honest. I just – I wanted a place to stay, and this place seemed like a good spot. It was empty for a long time, until people started moving in," the ghost began carefully.

Shinichi nodded – there had indeed been a period of time after he'd moved out and before his parents had decided to rent that the old mansion had sat empty and uninhabited. He understood why someone – or some ghost, rather – would decide to claim it for themselves. "Right."

"I was fine with living with the first tenants. They really weren't so bad," the ghost continued, twisting his hands in front of him in a show of regret. He paused to make deliberate eye contact with Shinichi, leaning forward conspiratorially. "But _then_."

When he didn't continue, Shinichi prompted, "But then what?" He was almost afraid to hear what was coming next, just because of how serious the ghost was acting.

Eyes narrowed, the ghost shook his head slowly. "But then they bought a giant fish tank, and I had to draw the line."

Of all the things Shinichi had been expecting, ranging from devious murder plots to irritating obsessions with badly-acted soap operas, that… was not one of them.

"A fish tank," he repeated, and the ghost nodded frantically, his eyes widening with what Shinichi assumed was fear. Or possibly insanity.

"It was _floor_ to _ceiling_ ," he managed, positively horrified.

"Right." Shinichi idly questioned if he should seek psychiatric help. He wasn't sure if he himself needed it or if the ghost did.

"They had, like, a school of fish in there. No, wait. _Two_ schools of fish," the ghost amended pensively.

"Moving on," Shinichi urged when it appeared the ghost was waiting for him to fully appreciate whatever greater meaning there evidently was in the purchase a fish tank and two schools of fish. The ghost nodded in agreement, folding his hands in his lap.

"So obviously I couldn't bear living in the same house as those people," he said, waving a hand dismissively. "I did a few of the things I did to you to them – the tomato juice, the skeleton. You know. They were gone within the week."

"I can imagine why," Shinichi muttered dryly.

"The house was empty until more people moved in, but then I missed having the house to myself, so I scared them away with some more pranks. And then it turned into a vicious cycle of me scaring away all the tenants. You were the first person not to freak out, though. Even though I went a little too far with it." The ghost smiled apologetically, one side of his mouth pulling higher than the other.

(He really was pretty, Shinichi thought to himself, even if he was almost see-through in the sunlight. And wasn't _that_ a thought. Shinichi was finding the _ghost who had exploded a mirror in his face distractingly attractive_. _Less than ten minutes after he'd officially met him_. Shinichi's life was a bad rom-com cliché.)

When Shinichi didn't respond immediately (too busy mourning the loss of his sanity), the ghost bit his bottom lip in a way that was probably supposed to be abashed and apologetic but just made Shinichi want to find an ice bath even more. "I'm sorry about all of the trouble I've caused you," he apologized softly and then sobered even further. "I can try to find a different house if you want."

The amount of disappointment in his eyes was so large that Shinichi felt discomfited as he blinked down at his now cold tea. "Well." He coughed, out of sorts, before he lifted his gaze to meet the ghost's. "I – I mean, as long as you don't break mirrors all over me, I don't…" He had to look away as his stomach did a flip and the ghost's eyes lit with wonder. "I don't mind if you stay, I guess."

He was both gratified and mortified by the excited, puppy-like sound the ghost made. It was possibly the cutest thing he'd ever heard, and it made him want to adopt a kitten together or propose with fireworks or buy matching Christmas sweaters or something.

 _Literally_ less than ten minute of knowing the ghost, and Shinichi was already planning a lifetime (deathtime? The ghost was dead, wasn't he?) with him. Shinichi wanted to either cry or fling himself off a freeway overpass during rush hour. He wondered what Hattori would say if he were here.

"Really? You'd actually let me stay?" the ghost was asking when Shinichi finally got himself under control.

"I mean, sure, why not?" Swallowing, Shinichi glanced across the table and was dazzled by the brightness behind the ghost's smile, which was not an experience he had ever thought he would have.

"Thank you," the ghost beamed before adding, "Oh, my name's Kuroba Kaito."

"I'm Kudou Shinichi," Shinichi returned, and downed his cup of tea instead of subjecting himself to the sunshine in the ghost's – Kaito's – smile. He had a strange feeling he'd either made the best decision ever or he'd just sentenced himself to a life of suffering. Only time would tell, he guessed, and sighed heavily.

* * *

 **This was originally going to be a depressing, angsty sort of "we can't be together because you're a ghost" sort of fic because of a few "you should write more angst" reviews I got on my last fic, but after a few paragraphs I just kind of went "...that's not working," and turned it into a rom-com because I AM THE EPITOME OF PATHETIC.**

 **Anyway.**

 **I have yet to write the next chapter, so we'll see when that gets posted. If you enjoyed this even a little or are interested in seeing more of it, please consider leaving me a review, and I'll see you all soon! - Luna**


	2. telling me about my life

**chapter two** | _telling me about my life_

Shinichi was calmly unpacking his suitcase (which Kaito had returned with an uncomfortable smile after their conversation), humming under his breath and generally enjoying the quiet peace of the morning when the fire alarm abruptly went off.

Startling, Shinichi hastily tossed the sweatshirt he was holding at his bed and bolted down the corridor. Wispy tendrils of smoke were just beginning to crawl up the banister, and Shinichi internally began to panic a little as he ran down the stairs. What had happened? He couldn't remember using the stove for anything other than putting the kettle on for tea earlier, and he certainly hadn't left any candles unattended or anything, so what –?

He skidded to a stop at the foot of the stairs, panting even as he tried to limit his inhales (smoke inhalation was _not_ pleasant, after all), turned down the hall, and ran towards the kitchen, which was, as far as Shinichi could tell, the source of the fire.

Coughing as the smoke grew thicker, Shinichi rounded the doorframe – and froze.

From where he was standing in the middle of a ring of fire straight out of a demon summoning, amid the shrill screams of the fire alarm and the lung-clogging smoke, Kaito somehow managed to look doleful. He also appeared to be holding a bottle of pineapple-juice-and-vodka mix and a crumbling match.

Shinichi goggled.

"I," Kaito started, and then paused. "I may have gotten… bored."

On cue, a drop of pineapple-juice-and-vodka fell from the rim of the bottle, happened to meet a stray spark, and ignited in midair.

Feeling close to tears, Shinichi pressed his face into his hands and forced himself to take several deep breaths, smoke inhalation be damned. "You're lucky you're cute," he mumbled, and trudged off in search of the fire extinguisher.

* * *

After the whole kitchen debacle, Shinichi politely informed Kaito that he was not allowed to leave Shinichi's sight. By politely, he meant "tried to threaten with bodily harm until he remembered Kaito was a _ghost_ and therefore beyond physical pain and then sort of floundered awkwardly for a bit." Kaito, who was painfully apologetic (especially when Shinichi looked pointedly at the perfectly circular burn mark on his kitchen floor), acquiesced quickly.

So that was how Kaito ended up fidgeting in one corner of the library while Shinichi settled into an armchair, serenely curled up with a copy of _The Sign of Four_.

The silence lasted for approximately half a paragraph before Kaito sighed loudly.

Unimpressed, Shinichi flipped a page.

After two and a half more lines, Kaito exhaled even louder. "I'm bored," he said in a stage whisper, and Shinichi made a low, uninterested sound.

"I wouldn't be making you sit in the corner if you hadn't set my kitchen on fire after you promised not to do anything potentially dangerous in my house," he remarked loftily, pretending he didn't smile stupidly at the distressed baby otter noise Kaito whined in response. Because, well, even if Shinichi was still kind of annoyed about the kitchen thing (he was going to have to replace the tiles, which was going to an ordeal), Kaito was still upsettingly adorable. It was unfair how cute he was.

There was a moment of silence, and then – "Technically, I only said I wouldn't explode any more mirrors, so burning down your kitchen was fair game," Kaito commented contemplatively, and Shinichi rolled his eyes and shut his book. He wasn't going to get any reading done, was he?

"Seriously?" he groaned, tucking _The Sign of Four_ into the space between his thigh and the seat cushion.

"Seriously what?" Kaito chirped, sounding smug.

Shinichi frowned as he squinted over at him. With the heavy curtains drawn and minimal sunlight interfering, Shinichi could make out more of Kaito's transparent form. In the daylight, he had seemed more ephemeral, almost as if he'd melt away in Shinichi's periphery, but in the absence of bright light, he looked more substantial, more _present_. Shinichi could identify Kaito's eyes, previously thought to be a bright blue, as more of a crystalline, deep indigo, and he was a little surprised to find Kaito's face entirely unlined and soft, just as young as Shinichi's.

The thought made him flinch, and before he could filter himself, Shinichi blurted out, "How did you – how did you die?"

For a dizzying, edge-of-the-canyon moment, Kaito looked horrified, stricken, before he donned an amused smile and shook his head. He didn't meet Shinichi's eyes. "I'm surprised you didn't ask earlier. That sort of seems like the most obvious thing you'd ask a ghost."

"I didn't mean it like that," Shinichi hurried to say, something like apprehension rising to blockade the back of his throat.

"No, really. I don't mind," Kaito assured him. He lifted a hand – Shinichi almost missed the way it shook with minute, nearly imperceptible tremors – to brush hair away from his eyes. "This is going to sound dramatic, but I got shot. By a criminal organization."

Shinichi blinked, opened his mouth, then shut it again. "You know, that does sound… dramatic," he agreed carefully.

"I'm not joking, though," Kaito sighed. He suddenly seemed gray, tired, as he sat down against the bookshelf. "Do you remember a phantom thief from a while back? Named Phantom Thief 1412? Or, more commonly, Kaitou Kid?"

Frowning, Shinichi absently rubbed at a worn spot in the upholstery of the armchair. If he thought about it, the name _did_ sound familiar, maybe from when he was about sixteen or seventeen? He hadn't been all that interested in phantom thieves at the time – he'd just started out as a detective, and homicides had been what he focused on most. "I… that does sound familiar, actually. He stole jewels, right? But he always returned them. And If I recall correctly, Kaitou Kid disappeared after a robbery one night, and…" Trailing off, his eyes widened as Kaito smiled wistfully at him and everything clicked sharply into place. Shinichi abruptly felt like an insensitive idiot (which he kind of was, he thought wryly). "You're Kid, aren't you." It wasn't a question.

"That's right." Kaito heaved a sigh and tipped his head back until it thumped against the bookcase. "What the public didn't know about me was the reason I stole those jewels. There was a criminal organization after me – they were looking for a jewel that they thought was the secret to eternal life. They called it Pandora. Apparently, Pandora glows red in the moonlight and cries tears during the –" Catching sight of Shinichi's unimpressed expression, Kaito waved a hand. "Okay, okay, that part's not important. The point is that I was looking for Pandora so I could destroy it before the organization could. But then they ambushed me after a heist and I turned into a ghost, and now I'm just… here." He shrugged, resigned.

"Can't you just… continue trying to find Pandora even though you're a ghost? I mean, you can still pick things up –" (that much was obvious from the pranks) "– and wouldn't being a ghost give you an advantage against living people, anyway? For one, you can't die again, and for another, you can, like, walk through stuff and turn invisible and all that ghost stuff whenever you want," Shinichi wondered, eyebrows drawn together. Usually, he wouldn't believe in magical jewels and evil crime organizations, but considering he was talking to the ghost of a phantom thief, he decided to suspend disbelief.

"I wish I could," Kaito groaned, turning his head to meet Shinichi's gaze. "But my soul is tethered to this area. After I got shot – at the Beika Metropolitan Art Center a few blocks away, if you're wondering – I managed to run all the way over here, but then I died across the street." He jerked his chin in the general direction of the street. "I can't go farther than a kilometer or so from the spot where I died. It's too bad, since you're right – it would be easier to find Pandora and go up against that organization as a ghost." He sagged a little further down.

Shinichi made a low sound of discontent, pushing a hand through his hair. He _really_ didn't like the way Kaito looked right now, curled in on himself and sounding so hopeless and dejected. It seemed uncharacteristic, just – _not right_ , like fire burning underwater or – or snowstorms in July, or lions chained behind concrete walls. _Wrong_.

As he studied the way Kaito's bangs fell across his forehead, framing those downcast indigo eyes, a thought sprang up in the back of Shinichi's mind, a casual _what if_ that quickly spiraled out of control the longer he entertained the notion. No, he _shouldn't_ , it would be pointless – but what would the harm be, really – there was no argument for _not_ doing it, not really – okay, he would. He was going to do it.

He cast a glance over at Kaito, who was now thumbing at the curve of his knee as he stared listlessly at his feet, and decided he wouldn't tell Kaito. Yet. He didn't want to get Kaito's hopes up, and if it didn't end up working out, he would probably end up seeing Kaito all depressed and mopey _again_ , which was a situation Shinichi firmly wanted to avoid for reasons he didn't want to think about too much.

"Kuroba," Shinichi finally said as he stowed the idea away for later, "do you want to set the kitchen on fire again?"

Kaito's visible brightening in response made the ensuing first degree burns and smoke inhalation worth it.

(Kaito apologized profusely and fussed over the mild burns on Shinichi's forearm and elbow with a terribly adorable combination of overblown concern and too much aloe vera gel. It was definitely worth it, even if the sheets stuck to Shinichi's arm that night when he went to sleep because Kaito insisted on putting more gel on before bed.)

* * *

The next morning, far too early for anyone to be awake (okay, fine, at like six in the morning), Shinichi got dressed and crept out of the house as quietly as possible. Kaito obviously didn't sleep, but hopefully he wouldn't have heard Shinichi moving about.

The police station at six in the morning was fairly quiet, almost surreal in its silence. Shinichi bumped into a few of his old acquaintances – he received a sleepy, "When did you get back, Kudou-kun? Also, why are you even here?" from Yumi and a surprised, "Haven't seen you in a while, Kudou-kun, how's everything?" from Chiba – but the halls were mostly empty.

Division One was the same. Shinichi peered around the rows of desks, where only a few stray officers he didn't recognize were milling about with cups of coffee and altogether dead expressions. Inspector Megure didn't appear to be in, which was surprising.

Sighing, Shinichi turned to leave – only to bump into Takagi, who was on his way into the room. "Oh, Takagi. Hi."

"Kudou-kun!" Takagi blinked and rubbed at his eyes. "So I _was_ right – Yumi _did_ say something about you being here. Good to see you again – how's Osaka been treating you?" He happened to glance down and catch sight of Shinichi's burn underneath his shirtsleeve. "Whoa, what happened to you?"

"I set my kitchen on fire," Shinichi shrugged dismissively, tugging the cuff of his sleeve down. "Osaka's great, by the way. Hattori's right – the okonomiyaki really _is_ good over there. Thanks for asking."

"Er…" Takagi looked to be at a loss for a moment before he smiled an _I don't know what's going on but I'm just going to pretend everything's fine_ smile. It was not a new expression for him. "I'll keep that in mind. Anyway, what's the reason for the visit so early in the morning?"

"I wanted a favor," Shinichi began. "Was there a body discovered on my street while I was gone?"

"A – what?" Takagi frowned before a look of realization crossed his face. "Oh, do you mean the Kuroba case from a while back? Where that kid was shot three times?" He sighed. "It's gone cold. We don't have any suspects, and it seems Kuroba – the victim – ran from the original scene of the crime, but for some reason, we can't find where that was. The trail, if there was one, was cleaned up quite well."

Shinichi, who had gone white at the mention of Kuroba as a _kid_ – how old had Kaito been when he died? – blinked and narrowed his eyes as Takagi went on. "This is going to sound insane," he started, "but can I have everything you have on the Kuroba case and all the reports related to Phantom Thief 1412's heists?"

* * *

"Where did you go?" Kaito demanded from the top of the stairs as Shinichi closed the door and bent over to set down his newly acquired cardboard box of case files by the shoe rack.

"Aw, did you miss me, sweetheart?" Shinichi snarked, straightening, and Kaito, who was halfway down the stairs, tripped and fell ungracefully through the handrail. Through, because apparently he was just that shocked.

"No," Kaito muttered petulantly once he was sitting primly at the foot of the stairs, having gathered the tattered remains of his dignity. Sticking his bottom lip out in what was most definitely a pout, he glared over at the box. "What's in the box?"

"Just some cold case files I got from the police headquarters," Shinichi said airily, tugging off his jacket and hanging on the coatrack. He shot Kaito a pensive glance as he toed off his shoes. "Did I mention I'm a homicide detective?"

Kaito snorted. "Your library was enough of a giveaway. No normal person owns that many books on murders, murderers, and murdering. You were obviously either a serial killer or some kind of detective."

"Why not both?" Shinichi said mock-seriously, and smirked when Kaito froze, wide-eyed. He rolled his eyes as he brushed past Kaito towards the charred kitchen. "Why would that even be scary to you? You're already dead."

"I'm against murder on principle. You could make me an _accomplice_ ," Kaito huffed as he got to his feet to follow. "So what kind of case files did you get?"

"Oh, you know." Shinichi opened the refrigerator, which was thankfully unburned. He scowled at its contents – whoever the last tenant had been had left only bread and a sad-looking leek. "Some vivisection cases, a few burnings at the stake – oh! I think there are a few water torture ones, too. And one where the victim was dropped into a tank of piranhas –"

Kaito made an odd squeaking noise and smacked Shinichi on the shoulder. "I don't need to hear this!"

"What is with you and fish?" Shinichi wondered as he considered a leek-and-bread sandwich. He was thinking probably not.

"They're _evil_ ," Kaito muttered under his breath, and Shinichi shrugged.

"So you don't want to help me look through the cases?" he asked. Kaito was slapping at his shoulder again before he even finished his sentence.

"No, I don't want to help you with your creepy dead people! Count me out."

Shinichi help up his hands. "Your loss," he half-sang, and made a sound of excitement when he discovered a carton of eggs in one of the drawers.

* * *

 **I always get nervous posting the second chapter of fics, especially when the first chapter was fairly well-received. Hope this lived up to expectations? /sweats**

 **Anyway, as always, if you enjoyed this chapter even a little, please consider leaving me a review, and I'll see you all soon! (Probably with a oneshot, because I need a break from this fic. Seriously.) - Luna**


	3. i've been talking to outlines

**chapter three** | _i've been talking to outlines_

After having an omelet that tasted more like the tangible version of pain and suffering than eggs, Shinichi decided that he needed to go grocery shopping. What he didn't decide was that Kaito should pop up out of literally nowhere while he was bent over the tomato display.

Shinichi narrowly avoided overturning the neat pyramid of tomatoes as he jumped, one hand instinctively reaching for his heart. " _Oh my God, what are you doing here_ ," he choked, hand spasming as his pulse skyrocketed, and Kaito looked both bemused and exceedingly pleased as he stretched languorously by the onions. Mostly pleased, though.

"This is the first time I've actually been able to scare you," he beamed when Shinichi gave him a prompting lift of his eyebrows, and Shinichi rolled his eyes and huffed.

"Maybe that's because I wasn't expecting you to show up in the middle of the _grocery store_ , even if it's technically within your range," he grumbled, shoving his shopping cart straight through Kaito's translucent body in retaliation. Kaito made a surprised noise, to which Shinichi smiled grimly. "What if someone sees you?"

Grinning, Kaito trailed after him as they turned into the bread aisle. "Don't worry, I'll be careful to go transparent if someone looks over."

As if on cue, a middle-aged woman at the end of the aisle glanced up from her loaf of pumpernickel, caught sight of Kaito, and screamed loud enough that Shinichi winced visibly and checked for eardrum damage. She then proceeded to chuck the bread through Kaito's head – Kaito coughed an affronted "Rude" – and ran, shrieking, out of the store.

There was an awkward silence.

Kaito rubbed at his head, sheepish. "Oops?" he tried, and Shinichi glared and reached out to smack his shoulder. This time, Kaito was prepared, and his shoulder was semi-solid when Shinichi touched it. It felt cool – not quite cold, but definitely not warm enough to belong to someone living. Shinichi flinched and dropped his hand.

"So why did you come out here, anyway?" he asked as he pushed the cart down the aisle, wheels squeaking against the linoleum. "It's not as if you're going to eat any of the food I buy."

"I get bored when you leave me all alone. You shouldn't do that," Kaito told him, pouting.

Scanning the display for his usual milk bread, Shinichi sighed. "I thought you liked living by yourself. Isn't that why you chased all the tenants out?"

Grinning, Kaito leaned forward until his cheek, strangely tangible yet not entirely solid, brushed against the back of Shinichi's neck, eliciting a full-body shiver from Shinichi. "Sure, but none of the tenants were pretty detectives who never got scared by my pranks and let me set the kitchen on fire for stress relief." His lips grazed the side of Shinichi's ear.

Flushing, Shinichi stumbled and nearly swerved into a selection of various melon breads.

"I – shut up," he mumbled, ears hot, and he had no doubt that if he turned to look, Kaito would be grinning smugly at him, so he plucked several coffee-flavored buns off the shelf for something to do with his hands and resolutely did not look in Kaito's direction.

The rest of the grocery trip passed fairly uneventfully. Kaito barely disappeared in time to avoid freaking out an employee who was restocking the dairy section, and Shinichi couldn't meet Kaito's eyes for a while due to the fact that he was still sort of wired up from Kaito's earlier comment, but everything else went smoothly. Soon enough Shinichi was walking home, arms laden with bags while Kaito sulked alongside him, disgruntled over Shinichi's refusal to let him carry any of the bags because "how could I explain floating bags on the off chance that we run into someone? _You_ could turn invisible, but the bags can't, you know."

It was nearly noon when the two of them got back in. Shinichi immediately set to work preparing lunch (steamed rice, chicken teriyaki, and miso soup) while Kaito idled at the singed kitchen table, swinging his legs and making unnecessary comments on Shinichi's cooking skills ("I think you need more soy sauce," "Not _that_ much soy sauce," "Why are you glaring at me while holding a knife?", etc.).

By the time Shinichi had sat down and was halfway through his bowl of rice, Kaito was tapping his fingers against the table as he heaved an exaggerated sigh. "I'm bored again," he explained when Shinichi lifted his eyebrows at him over a piece of chicken.

Swallowing, Shinichi lowered his chopsticks as he shook his head at Kaito. "You get bored _so_ easily. How did you survive before you met me?"

It was only when Kaito's eyes widened and he smirked suggestively in Shinichi's direction that Shinichi realized how he had sounded. Floundering a bit (and nearly falling out of his chair in his panic), he spluttered, "No, I – I meant, like, how did you survive being alone? Not – you know!"

"I know," Kaito agreed smugly, leaning forward to balance his face in his hands. Shinichi scowled, about to demand an explanation for his ridiculous level of self-satisfaction, but Kaito continued on. "But anyway. When I first died, it took me a while to figure out how to control being transparent and learn how to solidify myself so I could hold stuff. And after I did that, I started practicing magic tricks."

"Magic tricks?" Shinichi asked around a mouthful of rice, and Kaito nodded, his eyes adopting a longing gleam.

"You know how I was Kaitou Kid before I died?" he asked, and when Shinichi nodded, he smiled, fragile and nostalgic and heartbreakingly pretty enough that Shinichi almost choked on his rice. "I used to make my heists like magic shows – I'd turn escaping from the police into a performance. There used to be crowds. The heists would be televised." He sighed, dropping his hands into his lap as he slouched back in his chair. All traces of a smile vanished from his face, and if Shinichi looked closely, he could detect a slight desaturation in the color of Kaito's eyes. "I guess I missed that. That's why I'd practice tricks, even if there was nobody to perform for."

For a long second, Shinichi felt something so confusingly complex that he could hardly breathe. There was sympathy, of course, first and foremost, but there was also respect for Kaito's strength and desperation to fix the problem somehow and a sort of pained appreciation of the raw, visceral beauty of seeing Kaito so vulnerable, head bowed and shoulders hunched. It was such a strange tangle of emotions that Shinichi found himself staring, transfixed, at Kaito for long enough that Kaito noticed.

"Oh, come on. You don't need to feel bad for me," he grinned, rolling his eyes as he sat up straight and perceptibly gathered himself. "I've gotten over it. I mean, sure, it kind of sucks that I have a bunch of heist plans and tricks that I can never use, but –"

"I should've gone to one of your heists," Shinichi blurted out. His chopsticks clattered against the table when he set them down. "I should've – I wish I could've seen you, just once." Regret hit him in an overwhelming wave, and he gritted his teeth against it.

Kaito, openmouthed, didn't say anything for a minute, but when he did, he sounded fondly chastising. "It's not a big deal. I understand that you were probably busy with your dead bodies and murder. And at the time, I probably wouldn't have appreciated another detective showing up to one of my heists."

"That's – I mean, I just… it's so…" Shinichi sighed and ran a hand through his bangs. It seemed so _unsatisfying_ , the thought that he wasn't familiar with such a big part of Kaito's personality. He stared down into his half-empty bowl, gnawing contemplatively on his bottom lip, until he lifted his face and met Kaito's gaze. "Would you – would you show me your magic tricks? Everything you've come up with, I mean?"

Apparently that was not what Kaito had been expecting him to say, because Kaito went round-eyed and sort of gaped at Shinichi. "You – what? You want me to show you my…?"

"Yes," Shinichi said decisively, nodding, and Kaito gave a surprised laugh. He suddenly seemed a little less grayscale.

"Oh – well, uh, sure," he stammered out, cheeks vaguely pink. "When do you want to – when should I show you?"

"Whenever you want," Shinichi replied with determination, and the smile Kaito gave him was blindingly bright. Shinichi clutched feebly at his retinas.

"I'll be ready in a few hours, then," Kaito told him, and Shinichi watched as he fairly bounced out of the room, walking through the table and a few chairs in his haste.

Shinichi spent the next few minutes wondering when he had gotten so emotionally attached to a borderline pyromaniac, ex-phantom-thief-slash-magician ghost who had almost killed him multiple times. He eventually came to the conclusion that it must've been around the time he allowed (and participated) in arson, and, satisfied, went back to eating lunch, which had long since gone cold.

* * *

A few hours later, Shinichi rubbed at the bridge of his nose, yawning widely. The case file he was reading – an account of the "Blush Mermaid heist" written by Inspector Nakamori Ginzou – wasn't yielding any clues about the mysterious organization. Still, it contained a lot of information on Kid himself, although the majority of this information was told through expletives and angry caps lock. Shinichi absently contemplated whether Inspector Nakamori, whoever he was, needed to take a course in anger management.

Flipping the report closed, Shinichi rifled through the slowly dwindling stack of folders for a hopefully more helpful file. So far, he'd combed through about four or so reports on various Kid heists, looking for any sign of the organization interfering. To his understanding, Kaito had run into them during multiple heists, and Shinichi figured he may be able to learn something about the syndicate if he started by looking for clues in heist reports.

Unfortunately, Shinichi had no idea which heists had involved the organization, and it wasn't as if he could ask Kaito, since he wanted to keep his investigation quiet. He was doomed to reading through all the heist reports, it seemed.

Although, Shinichi allowed as he opened the report for the "Blue Birthday" heist, the reading itself wasn't entirely horrible. Even though Inspector Nakamori's acerbic writing and overuse of "bastard" weren't enough to diminish the ridiculous skill with which Kaito had performed heists. Shinichi had to admire the intricacy and planning put into each of them, not to mention how the tricks he used to evade capture were works of art.

Settling into a more comfortable position on his bed, Shinichi began to read the next report. It started out much like the others he had read; Inspector Nakamori described the set up and preventive measures that had been instituted prior to the heist and then complained about how Kid had gotten past the defenses. Shinichi was about to close the report and move on to another when he caught sight of a short note at the end of the report.

 ** _Additional note(s):_** _I didn't hear it myself, but a few of my men said that they heard something like a gunshot after the heist. Dunno if it's anything important, because we didn't find any bodies or wounded people, but thought it might be worth mentioning._

Eyebrows flying up, Shinichi reread the note again. That was certainly suspicious. Standing up, Shinichi picked his phone up from his desk, dialed Takagi's number, and waited.

Takagi answered after a few rings. "It's Takagi."

"Takagi? It's me."

"Oh, Kudou-kun? What's up?"

"I was looking through these case files, and I was wondering – do you think you could put me through to the inspector from division two? Uh… I think his name is Nakamori Ginzou?"

"Inspector Nakamori? Of course I could, but why…?"

"Just…" Shinichi stared down at the report. _Gunshot_ glared back at him in bold lettering. "It's about one of the files you gave it. That's all. Can you do it?"

"Kudou-kun, what in the world are you doing with those files?" Takagi groaned, but he only sounded resigned as he gave Shinichi the number. "Don't get into anything dangerous, Kudou-kun," was all he said before hanging up.

Shinichi called Inspector Nakamori next. The inspector didn't pick up, and Shinichi frowned as an automated female voice asked him to leave a message after the beep. Clearing his throat, he began in a low tone, "Hey, um, this is Kudou Shinichi. I don't know if you've heard of me or – anyway. I'm looking into the disappearance of Kaitou Kid, and I'm reading through some of the reports you filed on his heists. I have a question about something you said on the Blue Birthday file, so if you could –"

"Kudou?"

At the sound of Kaito's voice, Shinichi panicked and smacked the "end call" button on the phone so hard his finger came away throbbing. Whirling, Shinichi stared at Kaito, who was standing in his doorway with the oddest expression on his face.

"You startled me," Shinichi mumbled in the silence that followed. "I – don't do that."

"Uh, sorry." Kaito was staring at the phone in his hand, and Shinichi frantically wondered if he'd heard what Shinichi had been saying. "Who – who were you talking to?"

"I – nobody, it's nothing, don't worry about it," Shinichi responded, probably too quickly, because Kaito's expression just turned stranger. He looked as if someone had just told him he had a chocolate allergy or something equally horrific.

"Right," he said after a beat. "Uh, well, I've gotten everything set up in the living room, if you want to come see…?"

"I do," Shinichi quickly agreed, and tucked his phone in his pocket before hurrying out of the room. He could feel Kaito's gaze burning a hole into his back as he thumped down the stairs, cringing all the way. He really needed to work on his subtlety.

* * *

 **I think we can all see where this is going.**

 **Apologies that this chapter turned out less lighthearted than the last two. I didn't realize how heavy this had gotten until I reached the end.**

 **As always, please leave me a review if you enjoyed this chapter, and I'll see you all soon! (Not sure if it'll be another chapter of this or a oneshot, but we'll see. Yay, surprises?) - Luna**


End file.
